


What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Lazy

by teamcap4bucky



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-26 07:51:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamcap4bucky/pseuds/teamcap4bucky
Summary: Y/N and Clint were the most problematic mission partners, which is why they were always paired up with each other. No one wanted to babysit dumb and dumber.My prompts were;# 9  “I said I was sorry!”  “And yet I am still never going to let you live it down.”# 53  “What now?” “I don’t know, I thought the jump would kill us.# 24  “Eh, screw it. Lets blow it up and call in a day.”





	What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Lazy

“Clint…Is that?” You start tapping his shoulder to gain his attention.

“Yes.” Clint launches out of his seat gathering supplies.

“Is it?” 

“Yup” 

“It’s coming right at us!” 

“Yeah, we got to go.” Clint opens the hatch of the small jet you had stolen from the Hydra base, and looks out over the open water.

“Go where? Down there! We’re a couple hundred feet up, we can’t jump!” You lean out over the edge, scanning the surrounding areas. It was twenty degrees outside, and if the jump wasn’t going to kill you, the freezing water would.

“Cap does it all the time!” He scoffs back, as if it was a completely normal situation that everyday people dealt with.

“Yeah, for two reasons! For one, he’s a super soldier, he doesn’t break like we do, and for two, he lacks that little inside voice that would tell normal people, like us, not to be an idiot!”

“You have two options, jump, or go down in flames on this plane.”

“I hate you, Barton.” You roll your eyes back up into your head, and purse you lips. “Can you get us any lower?” You lean out the hatch, praying that when you did finally jump, you wouldn’t vomit the whole way down.

“We’re in a jet, over a large body of water, do you want me to fucking valet? 

You scramble away from him, searching as fast as you could for a parachute, coming up empty handed. He grabs you by the arm and pulls you on to your feet, dragging you to the door, starting to push you out against your will.

“There’s no time!” He yells into your ear, but you can barely decipher what he says due to the wind, and the sound of bullets piercing through the walls and windows surrounding you.

“There’s no time to look for a parachute? There is always time to look for a parachute, Clint!”

The interior lights of the plane start flashing a vibrant red color, and the audible sounds of an alarm start to scream, making you cover your ears, almost disorienting you. 

“Missile.” You both whisper, staring into each other’s eyes, knowing now, this was the only means of escape.

“Clint…” 

He shrugs his shoulders, as he tightens his arms around your upper body. “Sorry.”

The frigid temp of the wind burned your face, as the rain hit against your skin like nails. Your stomach spun over on itself to many times to count, making it hard to breath. It felt like every one of your organs were in your throat, desperately trying to get out. Clint tucked your head into his shoulder, and he buried his in yours, as the missile made contact with the plane, the pressure of the explosion hurtling you threw the air harder than before. 

The view of the water was rapidly approaching, and you knew, if you did make it through this, the pain would probably be unbearable afterward. You were heading into a block of ice, and you both knew, you might not make it out alive.

“Straighten up!” He yells into your ear. You stare at him with confusion, waiting for him to repeat himself. He looks down at the nearing water, and makes eye contact with you. Instead of yelling, he places to fingers to his eyes, and moves them back and forth between your lines of vision. “Watch me.” He mouths to you. You feel his grip loosen, sending you into a slight panic. He pushes you as far away as he can, and tightens his legs and arms, making his body straight like an arrow. You imitate his movements, and pray for the best.

“Y/N!” You can hear what sounds like a distant voice, muffled, but can’t place where’s it’s coming from. “Y/N!”

You feel your heart rate decrease, your muscles tightening. Every breath is a struggle, feeling like there is hundred pounds of weight on your chest. You try to swim, but the bitter raging cold water surrounding you fights you back down.

You feel dizzy, the lack of air making you disoriented. Which way do you swim, which way is up? You kick your legs one last time in hopes that some part of your body will respond. You feel a tight grip around your arm, pulling at you. This is it, you think. Death is finally here, pulling me to the depths of this glacial sea. You knew it would happen, and you knew deep down, in the core of your soul, Clint would be the one responsible for it. “Clint, so help me…” You mutter in your head. Wait, Clint! 

“Y/N! I got you, breath. Breath, it’s okay, we’re okay. Just keep breathing.” He grabs your face, keeping you above water. “Are you okay? Talk to me!”

“I’m cold, Clint.” You say, teeth close to shattering as they bite down against each other in your mouth. 

“I know. We got to get out of here. Can you swim with me?” He rubs your arms under the water, knowing it won’t help, but just trying to keep you alert.

“I don’t know, I’ll try.” He watches as your lips turn a blue hue, and your eyes start to zone out.

“Hey, I need you to focus on me, keep talking, stay awake! The shoreline is just over there, do you see it? We just have to make it there, okay?” He points one hand in the direction of a bridge and road, where you can see lights from a city. 

“Okay, yeah.” You try to swim a little but your legs locks up, making your face dip below the water. “Don’t let go of me!” The look of distress in your face was something Clint had never seen before. This was the first time he had ever seen you really scared. He knew you hated the water, and being out in the open sea was your biggest fear, so much so that Steve made sure you were never sent on missions that involved boats of any kind. You were a land girl, so this situation was a living nightmare for you. He saw panic and fear in your eyes, and he knew if he didn’t get you out of there soon, he was going to lose you. 

“I won’t let go, I promise. Look at me!” He grabs your face and makes you look into his eyes. “You are not going to die in here. Do you hear me? Say it…Say it!

“I’m not going to die in here!” You could barely speak to him, but knew he was satisfied with your answer, as he grabbed on to you, and damn near swam with you on his back the whole way to the shore. 

Once you had reached the gravel near the road, Clint grabbed a hold of you, pushing you out first. You grabbed on to his arm, pulling him out as best as you could. You dropped down on the ground, in a fetal position, trying to keep yourself warm next to him. He was just as frozen as you, but at least the contact kept the wind out of your face for a moment.

“Thank you.” You whisper under your breath, using up all the energy you had at the moment to get your jaw to form an audible word.

He leans in, tucking your face into his neck, cradling you as tight as possible to get you warm, and to stop the seizure like movements you were displaying. He just nods his head.

“Don’t thank me just yet. We got to keep moving. We can’t stay here. We need shelter and clothes. We have to get you warm, and fast.”

“Let’s go.” 

You walk along the city streets for thirty minutes before finding a shady looking hotel. You would have paid money for a hammock with a roof at this point, so seeing a building with lights, heat, and four walls was like stumbling on to a Ritz. It had started to rain just before you had reached the entrance, which actually had helped you out with a cover story as to why you were both drenched. You manage to get to your room without causing any suspicion, finally being able to stop and rest. You both jump into the shower, with clothes, trying to clean off what grime you had picked up from the water and sand. All of your belongings had been blown up, so these clothes were it for you until you reached the safe house. Looking over each other, you check out what uncovered bruises you could see making sure that there were no open lacerations that needed to be tended too. Once you both felt warm enough, Clint gets out, giving you time to undress, and give your body the undivided attention that it needed. The warm water was the most sinful thing that you had ever felt. The feeling in your fingers and toes had started to spark again, and the cramps that had burdened your legs were now subsiding. You wash up twice, continuing to find sand and muck in your hair. What the hell did you swim through?

You grab a dingy robe, courtesy of the hotel, and try to rip the knots out of your hair. You trade spots, giving him his privacy, and let Clint follow suit, hearing him grunting like a caveman every so often.

“I’m one hundred percent positive we are going to pick up something horrible from this hotel, but I don’t even care at this point. This hot water is the best thing I have ever felt!” You giggle to yourself, agreeing with him.

While Clint was finishing up, you had decided to start emptying out your jacket and pockets, trying to find any device that still could be of any use to you. Your phone was useless; no amount of rice was getting that cell back, which left you with no contact to the team. GPS, gone. Your comm was fried, no communication there either. Your knives somehow had made it through, never falling off your tactical suit, which was shocking with how much you had been thrown around. At least you had protection. You survey the area around you, spotting Clint’s gear, a few arrows, another soaked phone, a busted watch, and an additional GPS device that may or may not be savable Fantastic.

A few minutes later, he joins you in the living room. You’re tired, hungry, and unsure of your next move. 

“What now?” You ask him, as he scans the items that you have placed along the floor. 

“What now? I don’t know, I thought the jump would kill us.”

“If I wasn’t so tired, I would jump across this bed and strangle you.” You flop on to the bed, rubbing your eyes, not even being able to focus at the task at hand.

“I know, but it was the only way, and you know that.” He flops next to you, giving you an exhausted looking dopey grin. “I’m glad you made it.” He nudges into your shoulder with his.

“You too.” You nudge back. “I’m never going on another mission with you again.” 

“You say that every mission, and yet hear we are, in a roach motel, wearing matching robes, yet again.”

“This happens to us entirely way to often, we should be better planners. I can literally, right now, think of three other missions that have ended just like this. London, Moscow, and Budapest. We really are shit teammates, Clint.”

“Yeah, we still owe Nat for that last one.” He twists his face in pain, while he replays Budapest in his head.

“Stop, please, don’t go there, I still have nightmares. We need a new game plan. What here works? How far is the safe house? We were two hours by air the last time I checked before the plane blew up.”

“Well, my phone and GPS tracker are waterlogged, so they’re dead. We might have a chance with my watch. I can’t communicate with anyone with it, but I can maybe get us some co-ordinates. We can see if there’s a map anywhere to get some road details. My comm is out, but my hearing aid is good.”

“Well, at least you can hear me call you an idiot still.”

“You might want to apologize for that. Tony waterproofed it, after Moscow, and made it into a second comm. device.”

“No shit? Clint, that’s awesome. Maybe we can get through to someone. Any cash or credit cards on you? I have two cards that Tony tracks. If I can use one somewhere, he can at least get a general idea of where we are.”

“Okay, that’s a start. We’re going to need a car, but it’s pretty late, and I don’t know if we’ll be able to find one out here. We may have to do some illegal borrowing, as we don’t seem to be in a place that looks like they have rental facilities.

“Okay, on it. I’ll have a look around. This is a good start. All we need is map, and to see if we can find some directions. What time is it?”

“Eleven thirty.” He glances down at his watch, and looks concerned. If we don’t get a car, we’ll have to walk it, and it’s going to take us at least three to four hours on foot. That’s not counting the weather, or if anything should go wrong. Extraction time is 3 am tonight. If we don’t make it by then, we’re supposed to check in, and then meet at the next extraction time, which is in twenty four hours.” 

“I don’t think we can hide out here for another day, Clint. It’s to risky.”

“I agree. So, let’s recon. Find a map, find a car, and then find our way the hell home.” He rubs his hand down his face. “We need dry clothes.”

You wait until some of the noise at the motel has died down, before heading out to scout the area. You manage to find a car in the lot that’s not only easy to grab, but also had suitcases in it, full of clothes. You make a mental note to remember the plate number, so that you can replace their belongings later. Clint manages to find a map, and scores some food for you both. Your stomach had been eating your spleen at that point, and you were dying to eat anything that you could get your hands on. 

“They had coffee, and I’m not exactly sure what this is, but I was promised that it was some sort of dinner sandwich, that’s popular here.” He hands you a sandwich and a steaming cup. 

“Are there roaches in it?” You ask, looking at the meat in between each layer.

“Unclear.” He looks at his, seeming to be satisfied, taking a bite. “What are you doing?”

“Watching you eat. I want to make sure you don’t drop dead before I eat mine.” It seems like it’s legit, so you take a bite. It wasn’t that horrible, but you would have eaten sand on toast at that point.

130 am

You sit on the side of the road, slowly losing your patience, listening to Clint vent out his emotions.

“Did you not think to check for gas?” He calmly, but sternly asks you.

“Um, no, I didn’t have time, as I was trying to not get arrested for stealing a car, Clint. I don’t know where the fuck we are! How was I to know that there were no gas stations in a fifty-mile radius? Where are we, the friggin twilight zone?” You scream back, sensing that he wasn’t really mad, just annoyed, because this shit never failed with you guys.  
“It was the only car that had everything we needed at the time.”

“Except gas…” He laughs back

“Except enough gas.” You laugh towards the ground. “I never once wonder why no one wants to work with us.”

“Nope, me neither. Okay, we go by foot then.” He holds out his arm, leading the way for you. “What are you doing?” He watches you grab a sweater, and some extra clothing items for the two of you.

“You never know. Grab what you can from the car. See if anything is useful.” 

“You know what’s useful?” 

“Clint! I swear on all that is holy, if I hear the word gas come out of your mouth, I will strike you.” 

230am

“New game plan?” You whisper, staying as still as possible, not wanting to alert any of the agents walking the perimeter of the house. 

“Looks like it.” Clint sighs, once again rubbing his face. 

“I wonder how long they’ve been here. They seem to be looking for something, how much you wanna bet it’s us.”

You both sat, hidden in the bushes around one hundred and fifty feet away from the Shield “safe house.” The safe house that you were supposed to meet Steve at in thirty minutes. The safe house that was now surrounded by Hydra agents on every corner, making it near impossible to get in, and make any kind of attempt at contacting your team.

“What are you thinking?” You glance at Clint, who is visualizing every angle of the building in front of him. He has counted the agents, checked out their weapons, and was already formulating a plan of attack. “I see the look on your face, and I can already tell what you’re thinking. I’m going to respectively decline that plan, because it’s not going to work, and it’s also really stupid.”

“I think if we can…”

“No no no, that’s where you went wrong. You started thinking. I need you to stop that, immediately. We have to leave, Clint, we can’t stay here. There are two many of them, and we don’t even have any guns.”

“I have some arrows. I think we can cause a distraction.”

“Clint, no, it’s not enough.” You shake your head at him, trying to make him see that this plan is going to get you killed, like pretty much all the other plans that you all have concocted together. You only hesitate for a moment when you see the defeated look on his face. “What’s your idea?” You sigh out, and get ready for him to indulge you on the new way your going to die tonight.

“I have a long range fire arrow. If we can make a distraction, maybe set a small fire, everyone will have to run out, and we can barricade ourselves in. I have weapons hidden all over that place. There is no way they’ve found them all. Tony set up some new shields too, they aren’t turned on yet, and they must not have found the controls. 

“I don’t know Clint, that’s a big risk to take for things that we aren’t even sure about.” You exhale slowly, trying to think of another option. Any other option. “How close to you need to be?” 

“We can stay right here. I can set if off to the side, and we can go from there.” He seems pretty confident, so you can tell already that this plan is going to backfire on you almost instantly.

He shifts the arrows in his quiver, removing the fire tip, and placing it in his bow. He hesitates, only for a moment, but it’s enough for you to sense that there is a problem. 

“What?” You don’t even want him to answer, but in order for this to work, you have to hear it.

“My long range arrow must have fallen out. I only have a short range one. We’ll have to get closer.” He whispers, slowly lifting his arm up to your face, ready to cover your mouth when the yelling started. 

“We’ll have to get closer my ass! No, Clint, I’m out. This is a suicide mission. No way.” 

“Listen, I’ll get closer to shoot it. I may just need a small distraction. Can you handle that?” He looks over for you pleading for your help.

“What kind of distraction?” You asked to be polite, not because you had any true intentions of helping this psycho.

“Maybe take one or two of the guys on this side out? Then I’ll shot the arrow and clear the way for you.” 

“You want me to run straight into them, while you stand behind me and shoot a flame in my general direction? Have you lost your mind? Do you not remember what happened last time you had a plan like that?” You were fully whisper yelling at this point.

“Y/N…” 

“No, don’t you Y/N me Clint Barton.” You reprimand him with your finger pointed towards his face. “You set my hair on fire with your stupid flare tip!”

“I said I was sorry!” He quietly yells back.

“And yet, I am still never going to let you live it down! My hair will never be the same.”

Clint slaps his hand over your mouth, and raises a finger to his lips. You immediately reach down for your knives, griping one in each hand, ready to slash up whoever approached. You hesitate for less than a second, but panic as you feel an unknown hand around you mouth, and another hand grab you around your waist, pulling you to the side of a tree. You throw your knife blade into the assailant’s arm, only to hear a small clunk and scratching noise, like nails on a chalkboard. 

“Bucky?” You turn around and throw your arms around his waist. You have never been happier to see back up arrive, and all of the people, Steve could have sent, Bucky was the best choice. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving you guys apparently. I could hear you from twenty feet away. These agents are idiots. How they haven’t heard you by now is baffling. May I ask what you were planning to do with that arrow?”

“Uhhh, small distraction fire? Get in, get help, hold down the fort until you arrive.” Clint is still hyper focused, watching every move each individual made. It was like a game of Chess in his head, he was three or four steps ahead of them before they even knew it themselves.

“That’s a really dumb idea.” Bucky replies, also playing his own game in his head.

“Told you.” You slump down against a tree watching behind you all, making sure no one else can approach.

Bucky breaks his concentration for a second to scan both of your wrecked appearances. “You guys look like hell, what happened out there? What are you wearing?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” You both reply in unison.

“Okay…how did you get here? I didn’t see any vehicles, or the jet.” He looks at Clint, who just closes his eyes, shaking his head.

“It’s probably best we don’t talk about that either.” You purse your lips and look above you, trying to avoid the last six hours of your life.

“Which part? How you managed to get here, or what happened with your rides?” He questions you as he ducks into the trees a little more, as he monitors the two new agents that have started their perimeter assignments.

Clint peeks over at you, and notices that you had mirrored his actions. 

“Both.” You both spin back to watch the house.

“Got it.” You see Bucky raise a finger to his ear, trying to focus on an incoming message. “It’s not looking good. They’ve taken the house. Yes…No…Debatable…I don’t know how many are inside, but they keep coming out like it’s a fucking clown car…ehhhh…I would use the term ‘backup’ loosely.”

“Asshole.” You mumble under your breath, while Clint flicks him off, neither of you bothering to look at him.

“Not great…They won’t tell me…I have no idea…two knives and a few arrows that I’m not even sure he knows how to use correctly… I don’t want to talk about it… It sounded like a dumb plan…I don’t care if it always works in the end… because I have trust issues…Can you…” Bucky leans his head into the tree, clearly irked by the endless questions being asked of him. “Is there anything of value? Okay, I’ll fill them in.” He picks his head off the tree, squinting his eyes through the bushes. You see him start to count each agent, their weapons, the doors in the cabin, mentally making note of every strategic move that could possible be made. “Steve wants us to take it.”

Of course he does…

You see the side of Clint’s lips turn into the slightest smirk. You watch as his quiver shifts and spins, and he grabs his bow quietly, bringing it to his hands. You hook your fingers around the handle of your knives, ready to advance.

“Can we just stop for a moment? What is our end goal here?” You whisper over to them, hoping that you can convince them to not do this. Captain’s orders or not, we were not prepared for this. Could we take them all out, of course? We may be idiots, but we’re tough as nails, incredibly accurate, assassin type idiots. This should be easy for us, if all goes well. It won’t go well, of course, but that’s the life you live and die by. “We have no idea how many more of them are in there, guys.” 

“Stop being lazy, Y/N.” Bucky does a quick pat down of his body, making sure all of his gear is in place.

“I’m not being lazy. Okay, no, maybe a little.” You hold on to your knives, but drop your shoulders, exhaling with all you have in you. “Look Buck, I’m fucking tired. I haven’t slept in 36 hours, It’s fucking freezing out here, and it’s starting to rain, not to mention, I got pushed out of a plane, and legit almost died not five hours ago in a watery ice cold death trap. I’m just not up for this right now, but you know I will do whatever you want me to do, no questions asked.”

He watches you, knowing that for you not to be here, to really not be here for this is unusual behavior. He looks at Clint, waiting for him to either back him up, or change his mind and follow your lead.

“Clint?” He waits for him to respond.

Clint drops his gaze for a moment to his bow, and lets out a small breath. He never makes eye contact with Bucky. “It was a bad night for her. Don’t make me talk about right now, please?”

Bucky watches Clint, then turns back, watching over the house, thinking of a plan b. “Shit.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t want to be here either. I’m beat. Chasing after you two is fucking exhausting. I had to call Coulson like three times for advice, I honestly don’t know how he puts up with your shit.” You watch as he raises his right hand to his ear again, waiting for a response. “I don’t know if this is going to happen…unsure of numbers…there’s more, but I can’t… Yeah, I know, Steve…I, I…”

He looks over at you, apologetically. 

‘I know, you don’t have to say it, we’re going in. I got your six, no worries.”

You were so close. So close to getting home, to your nice warm bed, your hot shower, and food, for the love of food. You were in desperate need of a meal, a real meal, and it was so close, but just out of reach. There was no way of stopping this death task….

“Let’s get this over with. I need a warm bed, a hot shower, and some food in me. I’m starving. Neither of you better bother me when we get back. I plan on sitting my lazy ass on the couch, eating snacks, and watching movies for days.” They both smile, and get ready to move. Here comes the bomb, in three, two, one. “Hey Buck, isn’t that NASA documentary on tonight? It’s like a three hour in depth look into their history or some shit, right?”

Hook, line, and sinker…reel in that metal baby.

You watch as his chest expands, the sudden realization that, indeed, it is “NASA night,” as he called it last week. He had been waiting to watch this show since he saw the commercial a month back. If there were two things about Bucky Barnes that everyone knew for sure about him, it was this; One, he loved NASA, two, he hated spoilers. Nothing makes him more irritated than him missing a show, and people ruining it for him.

“Sorry, Buck.” Not sorry

“Steve…no… we’re outnumbered…not safe…not worth it…I’ll deal with it…it’s no use to us anymore, we can’t come back…I’ll handle it.”

What is he up to?

“Bucky, are we going in?” You ask, waiting for him to break.

Clint watches him, debating in his head, which move to make. “You’re in charge Buck, what do we do?”

“We should go in.” He looks down at his watch, before looking up, staring into the sky. You couldn’t tell what he was doing, but he seemed to be deep in thought, like he was trying to solve an equation. “If we leave soon, with the time difference we can get home by eight if you fly, right?”

Clint looks at his watch, confirming with a nod, shrugging.

“We really need the info that’s in that house, though.” You all freeze, dropping yourselves to the ground, as you watch the back door of your house, spilling out at least another fifteen to twenty five agents. 

You both monitor Bucky’s reaction, waiting for his signal. He drops his gun, never losing sight of the house, and finally speaks.

“Eh, screw it. Let’s blow it up and call in a day.” He pats Clint’s back, and smiles as his quiver rotates once more. 

“Explosive-tip arrow it is.” He pulls back, squinting one eye. “You should get to the jet. Now…”

Bucky grabs your arm as you both run as fast as you can into the darkness of the woods. He clicks a small fob on his vest, and the Quinjet appears, coming to life. Clint is running up fast behind you. You close the hatch, and he jumps into the pilot’s seat, lifting the bird.

“Bucky, I can’t give you a space explosion, but this is the closest thing I’ve got.” Clint points to the window, motioning for you and Bucky to watch.

You watch as the house turns into a giant ball of flames, bright colors and sparks expanding throughout the entire wooded area, taking everything in his path out, with large smoke clouds forming in circles around it. 

“Mini Earth Supernova…cool.” Bucky leans closer to the window, with a big grin on his face. You rub his back for a minute, smiling as you watch the giant child in front of you in awe of a fire.

“Idiots.”


End file.
